A couple of hours later, i sat in my hospital smock in the hematology clinic at moffett.
Dr Kelvin would like a word with you before we start," said Sara, my transfusion nurse.
I felt nervous as she unpacked an IV setup for my treatment, truth was, I had been feeling okay. Not much pain or nausea other than the incident in the ladies room last week.
Dr. Kelvin alked in with a Manila folder under his arm. His face was friendly but unconfiding?"
I smiled weakly."only good news?"
He sat across from me on the ledge of a counter.
"How are you feeling, Moo?
"I wasn't feeling so bad when I saw you before."
"Fatigued?"
"Only a little. End of the day kind of thing."
Sudden nausea? Queasiness?"
I admitted I had vomited suddenly once or twice
He mad a quick notation on a chart..
He pages through some medical chart in the folder, I see we have undergone four packed red cell transfusion so far. . .
My heart was racing the longer he took. Finally , he put down the folder and look squarely at my face,
I'm afraid your erythrocytes count has continued to decline, Moo. You can see the trend line here,"
Kelvin passed me a sheet.
Leaning forward, he took a cross pen out of his breast pocket. The paper had a computer graph on it.
He traced the pattern with his pen. The line went steadily down. Shit.
I felt the air rush out of my lungs with disappointment. "I'm getting worse," I said.
"To be frank," the doctor acknowledged, "it's not the trend we are hoping for.
I had ignored the posit hat this might happen, burying myself in the case, sure that the numbers would improve. I had built this view on a natural trust that I was too young and energetic to be truly sic. I had work to do, important work , a life to live.
I was dying, wasn't I? Oh God.
What happens now?" I managed to say. My voice came out as a whisper.
"I want to continue with the treatment," Kevin replies, in face increase them. Sometimes these things take a while to kick in.
Super hi-test," I joked glumly.
He nodded. From this point I will like you to come in three times a week. And I'm going to increase the dosage by thirty percent, he shifted his weight off the counter, in and of itself, there's no immediate cause for alarm, he declared in a marginally uplifting tone. "You can continue to work, that is if you feel up to it."
"I have to work " I told kelvin
I drive home in a daze. One moment I was battling to unravel this damn case, and the next I was fight for my life.
I wanted a name. I wanted it now more than ever. And I wanted my life back. I wanted a shot at the whole deal, happiness, success, someone to share it with, a child. And now that I had Gabriel, I knew there was a chance that I could have all these things. If I could hold out. If I could will good cells into my body.
I want I to my apartment. Snippy was all over me, so I took her for a short walk. But then I moped around, alternating between resolve to fight through this mess and sadness that I couldn't. I even contemplated making a meal. I though it would calm e.
I took out an onion and cut two desultory slices. Then I realized how crazy it all was.
I needed to talk to someone. I wanted to shout, I don't fucking deserve this, and this time I wanted someone to hear it.
I thought Gab, his comforting arms around me. His eyes, his smile. I wish I could tell him, he would come on an instant. I could rest my head in his shoulder.
I called Fatimah. She could tell from my cost tremulous sound. She realized something was terriblly wrong.
I'm scared, was all I said.
We talked for an hour on the phone. I talked.
I went back and forth with Fatimah in a numbed state- panicked by impending nearness of Negli's next stage. I told Fatimah that nailing this bastard gave me the will to fight on. It separated me from being just another person who was sick. I had a special purpose.
"Has that changed for you, Moo! she asked softly.
No, I want him to get him more than ever."
"Then that's what we are going to do. You, me, little Alice. We are here to help you fight. We are you support, Moo. Just this one time, don't try to do it yourself."
In an hour, she had calmed me enough so we could say goodnight.
I curled up on the couch. Snippy and I snuggled under a blanket and watched the movie Dave. One of my favorites. When sigourney weaver visit kelvin Kline in his new campaign office at the end, it always makes me cry.
I fell asleep, hoping for a happy ending in my own life.
The next morning I went at it stronger than ever I still believed we were close, maybe just hours from a name for Res Beard.
I check in with Kalistus's contact, Jim Heekin, on the Seattle police force. Heekin said they spoke. If something came up he would let me know immediately.
We got a reply from infortech where Hannah Voskuhl had worked in Seattle. I'm three years she had held her job, there was no record of reimbursements for trips to San Francisco. Her job was to work with developing client in Seattle. A junior account manger. If she repeatedly went down there, she was on her own.
Finally, I called Jude. The Simons were still claiming that they knew nothing more. But yesterday he's met with the father, who seemed ready to give in. It was wrenching that som desperate attempt to hold together their daughter's virtue was clouding their judgment.
Since I was a woman. Jude suggested, maybe one more try from me would push them over the edge. I placed a Mrs Simon, the brides mother.
When she came on, her voice was different: remote but freer, as if she were in a less tormented state. Maybe, I just hoped, she was.
"Your daughter's killer is running free, I said. I could no longer hold back, two other couples's families are suffering. I think you know who was hurting Hannah. Please, help me put him away."
I heard her take in a long breath. When she spoke, grief and release of shame trembled in her voice.
You raise a child, inspector, you think she is always part of you. You love so much and you think there is always that part that will never go away."
I know, I said. I could feel she was teetering. She knew his name, didn't she?
"She was this beautiful thing. . . She could make anyone love. A free spirit. One day, we thought, another free spirit would shape her into the kind of person she was meant to be. We cultivated it with our children. My husband insists we always favored Hannah, maybe we helped bring it all on,"
I didn't say a word. I know what it was like to finally give up what you were holding inside you. I wanted to let her reach that point on her own.
"Do you have children, inspector?
"Not yet, I told her.
"It's so hard to believe, your baby, the cause of so much pain. We begged her to break free. We even got her a new job. Moved her ourselves. We thought if she could only get away from hm."
I was silent, letting her go at her own pace.
"She was sick, like an addict is sick, inspector. She couldn't stop herself. Buy what I don't understand is why he would hurt her so badly. He took away all that was pure about her. Why did he need to hurtHannah?"
Give me a name, who is he?
"She was mesmerized by who he was. It was as if she had no self-control when it comes to this man. She shamed us right up until the end. But even now, her voice lowered, I still wonder how someone who loved my daughter could possibly kill her. I'm afraid that I don't believe it. That's partly why I wouldn't tell you."
Tell me now. I said.
"I think she met him at one of his films. He told her he had a face like hers in mind when he dreamed up one of his character. His heroine."
It was then that Mrs Simon told me.
My body went numb.
I knew the name. Recombined it. He was famous, Red Beard.
I sat there, relating the possible connections through my mind. Things were starting to piece together. He was one of the minority partners at sparrow Ridge vineyards, where the second couple had been dumped. He had known Hannah Simon for years in San Francisco. Preyed on her. He was older. Married.
Famous.
By itself, the suspects name proves nothing. He had merely known the last bride. He had a circumstantial connection to the crime scene of the second killings.
But based on the description of Pascalin shortley and Mrs Simon, he had the brutal temperament, and maybe the motive, to vomit this vicious murders, the conviction built up inside me that this was Red Beard
I grabbed Gabriel. "What's going on he asked.
"Where's the fire?"
"I'm going to start one in here. Watch."
I dragged him into Kalistus's office.
I have a name I announced, as I threw my fist in the air.
They looked at me in wide-eyes surprise.
Richard Zaddicos
"The writer ?" Gabriel gaped.
I nodded. " He was Hannah Simon's lover here in San Francisco. Her mother finally gave it up," I walked them through the not so random connections he had with at least three of the victims.
This guy's. . . Famous," blurted Kalistus. He made those movies, blockbusters."
"That's exactly the point. Pascalin shortley said it was someone Hannah was trying to conceal. The guy's got two connections, Kal."
He's got connections, alright,Kalistus cried. "Zaddicos and his wife are invited to all the big affairs. I have seen his pictures with the mayor. Wasn't he part of the bid I keep Gaiants here?"
The air n cheery's office became heavy with the weight of dangerous possibilities and risk.
"You should have heard how the simons describes him, kal," I said, like some kind of animal. A predator. I think we are going to find he had something going with all three girls."
"I think Moo's right kal, Gabriel said.
We watched Kalistus slowly clicking the facts in his head. Richard Zaddicos was famous. A national figure. Untouchable. The lieutenant's face twisted as if he had swallowed a bad clam.
"You have got nothing right now," he came back."All if it. It's beyond circumstantial, his name has popped up in connection with four dead people. We could get face to face, like I would with anyone else. We could talk to the district attorney."
Kalistus held up a hand. Richard Zaddicos was one of San Francisco's most prominent citizens. Implicating him on a murder charge was dangerous. We'd better be right, I don't know what cherry was thinking. Finally, there was a slightest relaxation in his neck, only a tight swallow, but in Kalistus-speak it was a go ahead. You could talk to the DA.," This can't get out until we have something really firm."
Unfortunately, Assistant District Arttorney Agnes Okafor was truck in court. Her secretary said she wouldn't be out until the end of today . Too bad. I knew Agnes a little, liked her. She was tough, with dazzling smarts. She even had a conscience.
Gabriel and I got a cup of coffee, going over what we should do next. Kalistus was right. As far as a warrant was concerned, we had nothing. A direct confrontation could be dangerous. A guy like this, you had to be sure he would fight back.
Isaiah shuffled in, a self-satisfied smirk puffing up how face. "Must be raining champagne today," he muttered.
I took it as upfront another sardonic zinger aimed at Gabriel and me.
"For weeks, I can't even get a bite on this shit." He sat down and cocked his head towards Gabriel. "Bite. . . Champagne. . . That works, Captain, doesn't it?"
"Works for me," Gabriel said.
Isaiah continued, "so yesterday Jennings comes back with three places that had sold few cases of the bubbly in question. One of the buyers is this accountant in San Mateo. Funny thing is, his name's on file. Ends up he did two years up in Lampoc for securities fraud. Kind of reach, isn't it? Serial killing, securities fraud. . ."
Maybe the guy's got a thing against people who file joint returns," I said and smile at Isaiah.
He puckered up his face. "The second is some woman manager at 3Com who's sticking up for a fortieth birthday bash. This Clos du Meanil is a real collectible it's French I'm told."
I glanced up, waiting for hm at to get to the point.
"Now the third one, that's what I meant by raining. . . Big auction house, Butterfield and Butterfield. Three years back sold two cases of the eight-nine. Went for twenty-five hundred per case, plus commish. Private collector. At first they wouldn't give out the name. But we squeezed. Turn out he's a big shot. My wife, she happens to be a fan. Read every one of his books,"
Gabriel and I froze. "Whose, Isaiah? I pressed.
"I figure, I checked it out, I can be a hero, bring home a signed copy. You ever read Lion's share by Richard Zaddicos?"